


The Hilltop

by historiologies



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, University AU, lil baby babies, nobody get mad at me for this i literally don't go here i'm just passing by for a friend, that's all it is essentially, they're freshmen here, this is just meet-cute fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: Renjun has many regrets, but the thing he regrets the most is registering for a class at the Hilltop





	The Hilltop

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Kris!! I'm sorry for the quality of this fic, I'm sorry this is all I managed to give you. This was initially going to have much more parts to it but I rushed a lot of shit these past two weeks and I only just finished this today. This fic is not at all illustrative of your worth, but it's fluffy and cute (debatable) and it's of your faves. I tried very hard to get their personalities even if I don't really dabble in this fandom (at all) and I watched so many cute Noren videos so even I think they're absolutely adorable now and root for them. Heh. Please know that even if we occupy different fandoms now, and even if you want to step away from me sometimes because of associations or whatever, that I will always be here for you. _Kahit magtampo ako minsan, mahal pa rin kita, ngayon at kailanman._ :) I hope you like this even just a little. That's all I want.
> 
> To everyone else, honestly, I don't go here, but I hope it's not terrible. They are nice boys. This is honestly genfic more than it is actual Noren fic but in my head it becomes Noren endgame so that's why it's tagged like so. End of story :)

9:53am, Wednesday

Renjun has many regrets.

He regrets wearing these shoes because he had forgotten that the edges chafed at his heels, he regrets randomly deciding to dye his hair cherry red just around Christmas, he regrets not spending enough time with the puppy his family had gotten before he’d had to make his way back to his college dorm for the spring/summer semester. All of these felt like valid life choices at the time but eventually life has a funny way of making decisions turn out incorrect all the same.

Yes, Renjun has many regrets, but the biggest one is turning out to be registering for an American History class on the third floor of the Hilltop.

The Hilltop is a beautiful set of buildings on the upper part of the campus. It’s nearly entirely made of red brick, surrounded by neatly trimmed foliage in varying shades, depending on the season. The social science departments, as well as most of the post-graduate classes, are housed in them, and the picture the whole complex makes against the afternoon sun is breathtaking. However, most students dreaded seeing a major class of theirs scheduled in one of the buildings because as interesting and aesthetically pleasing as the Hilltop was, it was separated from the main campus by a hundred-step staircase--two of them, in fact. They curled away from each other before meeting again near the base.

The Hilltop staircase was famous all over the state, and Renjun could see why. There were pocket gardens scattered all over the different landings and benches you could pause at as you made your way up or down, depending on where you were starting from. It made for a pleasant little jaunt. Once. Twice, if you were showing relatives around.

But man, was it a giant dumb hassle in the ten o’clock sun three times a week.

Today, he’s running a little late. He got distracted by a student display near the Gregory building next to the library, so instead of the leisurely fifteen minutes he could have spent hiking to the top, he’s down to a measly 5 and a half--four, really, since he needs to go to the bathroom. It would have been much easier if his teacher didn’t start class as soon as the bell stopped ringing, but alas, Professor Simone did not possess a single sympathetic bone in his body. It was only the second week of class and already he was thinking about the earful he would be getting from his mother about dropping the course.

It’s not that he’s out of shape. Sure, he’s a little skinny and maybe Mark had a point when he told him that it wouldn’t hurt for him to go to the gym once or twice a week but that doesn’t mean he’s unhealthy. He’s a growing boy with a fairly decent body mass index. He’s not going to let something like a staircase, even one with 113 steps (he’d counted), intimidate him into a less than respectable grade point average.

He sighs. The thought of the state of his feet by the time he reaches the top makes him wince, but he quickly joins the steady stream of students taking the trek to the top nonetheless.

Professor Simone arches an eyebrow as Renjun rushes into the room, huffing and panting, forty nine seconds after the last strike of the bell. The tiny shake of his head and the brush of his pen on Renjun’s plot on the seat plan tells him he’s been marked tardy. Renjun groans and tucks his head into the nest his arms make on his desk.

He hates the Hilltop.

\---

9:40am, Friday

This time, he’s ready. 

Renjun fiddles with the day-old band-aid on his heel before carefully double knotting the laces on his sneakers. He tucks the water bottle he’d just bought into the side netting of his backpack before he swings it around, settling the straps over his shoulders. He has a full nineteen minutes before the bell for his history class was to ring, and he did not intend to rush himself.

He’s about to stand when legs barrel into his side, trip over him.

“Ahhhhhhck,” Renjun exclaims, hands reaching out to prevent his face from slamming into the concrete. As it happens, he still flops over the ground, the heavy weight landing on top of him knocking the breath out of his very lungs.

“Oh my God,” he hears from somewhere above him. Mercifully, the person who had knocked into him lifts himself without injuring Renjun further; head still spinning, he leans back on his elbow to look up, blinking into the direct sunlight.

“Here, are you okay?” asks the person--a boy, about his age it looks like--and Renjun tries not to look like there are literal stars dancing in front of his eyes. He rubs his eyes, shakes his head, and blinks to see a hand thrust in front of him. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s-it’s fine,” Renjun winces, before taking the hand offered. He’s pulled up relatively easily, and Renjun makes a face. Maybe he really should start working out.

When Renjun looks over at the boy, the first thing he notices is how easily the smile springs to his face. It’s wide, pleasant, and a tad sheepish. Renjun can appreciate that, just as easily as he can appreciate the messiness of the black hair peeking through the little hole in his backwards baseball cap and the bright blue Chucks on his feet. 

What Renjun doesn’t appreciate is how his hand is still somehow trapped in his.

“Uhhh,” he starts, looking down at their clasped hands, trying with all his might to temper the heat that’s inching its way up to the back of his ears.

“Again,” the boy says, tugging on the hand still in his grip for emphasis. “I’m super sorry I just ran into you like that, but I’m late, and I have to go.”

Renjun’s mouth drops open as the boy turns away from him to climb up the staircase, almost knocking into a pair of girls on their way down.

“Sorry,” Renjun hears him apologize profusely without slowing down his pace, his legs taking the steps two at a time. Renjun watches him make progress up the steps, higher and higher until he watches his light blue hoodie disappear over the top of the path.

Huh. That was weird. Renjun swallows, dusts off the scuffed dirt on the elbows of his shirt and picks up the water bottle that flew askew in the encounter. He’s tucking the bottle back into his backpack when the first bell that signals ten minutes left to class starts ringing.

The litany of curses that ring in his head as he realizes he has to hightail it up the steps would have impressed even the hardiest of sailors.

\---

9:16am, Friday

He is not going to be late.

Renjun climbs each step with purpose, stubbornly ignoring every bush he comes across, every flower that graces his line of sight, lest he get distracted again. He’s been cutting it close twice this week already, and he refuses to give Professor Simone the opportunity to cluck his tongue at him again.

He’s making good time; he’s about ⅔ of the way up before the clock hits half past nine. He congratulates himself internally, pleased. Maybe he could take the scenic route to the third floor, the part with all the gardens, get a new book from the HIlltop’s bookshop or even grab a cookie from the quaint little coffee shop on the ground floor of the main building before class started. The possibilities were endless and honestly, Renjun was a little more excited than the situation warranted, but the idea of him being in his seat by the time his teacher walked in made him a little giddy.

He’s so high on the idea of being early that he almost doesn’t notice someone matching him step for step until the someone nudges him lightly.

He doesn’t jolt at the sudden contact but he does stumble a little against the railing.

“Gosh! Are you okay?”

Renjun tilts his head and his eyes widen. “It’s you!”

The boy from the other day chuckles, rubs the back of his head. “I know, I swear, I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Could have fooled me,” Renjun mutters under his breath.

The boy peers at him, confusion clouding his eyes. “Did you say anything?”

“Nothing,” Renjun replies quickly. He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders hunching up. It’s embarrassing to be face-to-face with the boy from a few days ago, especially considering how many times the thought of him clutching his hand had crossed his mind the past few days. “I… did you need anything?”

“Oh,” the boy says, smile spreading across his face. He really had a nice smile, generous. It reminded him of those teen actors, but with a smidgen more sincerity. “I just wanted to say sorry again, for knocking into you.”

“That’s… okay,” Renjun says slowly.

“I’m glad to see you aren’t hurt,” the boy chirps.

Renjun scowls, just a little. “I’m tougher than I look.”

The boy’s eyes widen at the thought of causing more offense. “That’s not what I meant! I mean--”

“It’s okay,” Renjun says, holding up a hand to assuage him (and keep his distance). “I’m fine.”

“Well,” the boy says, looking fretful. “Let me at least make it up to you.”

Renjun eyes the building rush of students streaming behind the boy and realizes they’re spending way too much time talking. “That’s really nice of you, but you don’t need to--”

“But I insist!” the boy says, stepping closer. Renjun opens his mouth to protest when a red-haired girl staring into her phone elbows the boy aside, nearly knocking him into Renjun.

“I really have to go,” Renjun almost squeaks because the boy smells really nice up close and the way he looks with his hair spilling into his eyes is seriously distracting.

“Oh okay,” the boy says, his voice tinged with disappointment. “But hey, next time?”

Renjun shrugs, sidestepping out of the boy’s periphery. “Maybe.”

“By the way.”

Honestly, what does the universe have against him being on time?

Renjun sighs, and turns around. The boy is looking up at him, squinting a little because the sun is right up behind him and it’s hard to see, but he still gives him a bright smile. “I’m Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeno,” Renjun says. “I’m Renjun.” He gives him a shy smile back, and Jeno nods, gives a little laugh that sounds funny.

“Renjun,” Jeno repeats. “I guess we’re Hilltop buddies for the semester.”

“I-I guess so,” Renjun says, shrugging.

“Well in that case,” Jeno says, climbing the two steps that separated them in a single bound. He leans closer to Renjun, like he’s testing to see his reaction; Renjun pinks but doesn’t move, stares back resolutely.

Jeno smiles again, challengingly. And winks.

“Last one to the top buys lunch!”

Renjun stares in disbelief as Jeno reaches up to tug the brim of his cap over his eyes before racing up the last thirty five or so steps to the top. Half of Renjun wants to ignore the stranger--Jeno, he had a name now--but when Jeno looks back over his shoulder and gives him another one of his smiles, something in Renjun sparks, and has him hitching his backpack straps over his shoulders.

“That’s not fair,” Renjun calls out to him, and he gets a weird little laugh in response.

He overtakes Jeno before the last few steps, but he knows that the other had deliberately slowed down. He sticks his hands in his pockets as Jeno faux-drags himself up by the railing dramatically. “Are you always this generous?”

“Not really,” Jeno says. He cocks his head, playful. “Just when making new friends.”

“New friends?” Renjun repeats. Jeno smiles at him, and he scoffs a little. “Okay, sure.”

“You seem nice,” Jeno says, nodding. “And besides, I owe you for almost flattening you on the way to my Linear Algebra class.”

“They have math classes here?” Renjun says, curiously. Despite himself, he finds himself walking with Jeno on the way into the building.

“Just this one. What do you have here?”

“American History. On the third floor.”

“Nice,” Jeno nods at his backpack. “I like your taste.”

Renjun looks down at the collection of pins haphazardly connected to the front of his backpack. “Thanks.”

“Moomins are cool.”

Renjun lets out a laugh all of a sudden, and Jeno smiles at the sound of it. “You like Moomins?”

“Like is a strong word. I think they’re pretty decent all around,” Jeno clarifies. He stops in front of a classroom, and Renjun realizes he’s essentially walked him to class.

Jeno spins around, smiles brightly. “You end at 12 too, right?”

“Uhh,” Renjun says dumbly, still trying to process how he managed to walk someone he only just met to class. “Yeah.”

“Cool. Like I said, I’m buying lunch, so we could meet in the courtyard. Is that okay?”

This is ridiculous. “You really don’t have to.”

“But I want to. I made a bet, and I don’t renege on my bets.”

Renjun realizes that Jeno might be slightly ridiculous. “But you lost on purpose?”

“A Lee doesn’t lose on purpose,” Jeno clarifies, and smiles. “Besides, you seem really cool. And I could do with more friends.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re weird?” Renjun blurts out, and Jeno laughs.

“Yes, multiple times.”

“Fine,” Renjun relents. He’s suspicious but Mark would think it was stupid of him to turn down free food. 

(Besides, Jeno was really really persuasive. Yes, that’s what he’s going with.)

“Great,” Jeno chirps. He gives him a little salute. “See you around, Hilltop buddy.”

Renjun wants to reply, but the bell starts to ring. He hightails it down the hall, turns left to the nearest staircase. He gets stuck behind a group of sophomores dawdling near the stair landing but still manages to make it into his seat before his professor starts taking attendance. Simone raises an eyebrow at him, but says nothing.

He perches his chin on the flat of his palm as Simone finishes taking attendance, and starts class. If Renjun spends more time thinking about how much time until the end of class than the lecture on George Washington, well… 

Maybe the Hilltop wasn’t so bad. Maybe he didn’t hate the Hilltop after all.


End file.
